


A Repeated Promise

by laireshi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, But also, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not an Unhappy Ending, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: “I should have you arrested,” Tony says, not raising his mask.“Will you?” Steve asks, stepping into the pool of light falling from the window.





	A Repeated Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Comicsohwhyohwhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicsohwhyohwhy/gifts).



> Mild Homecoming spoilers! 
> 
> The ferry scene left me with many feels about how competent Tony was there, and somehow that led to this. About the tags, this doesn't really fix things, but I think Tony's a bit more settled at the end. 
> 
> Comicsohwhyohwhy is forever going to be blamed for all my MCU stuff, and she provided the line from the summary, because she's evil like that.
> 
> A fill for my bingo card square "team mates".

Tony only gets back to his apartment long after the sunset, but the tension doesn’t leave his body as he steps inside, the armour still safely around him. It doesn’t feel like home: that’s long gone; the hopes connected to the New Avengers compound destroyed, the memories marring the once Avengers Tower long before that. It’s not even a living space; just a place for him to sleep and work and function and pretend he’s going on. 

He sets Peter’s suit down at the wall. He’ll put it away later, but right now he can’t bring himself to look at it, the cold dread he felt at seeing Peter trying to hold that ferry together on his own still too fresh in his mind. Sure, it’s been Peter’s own fault—but Tony can’t help but think who’s really to blame is just him. He should’ve been there for the kid. Actually trained him. Talked to him more. Anything. 

He has no experience teaching anyone anything, and he’s too busy trying to design more for Stark Industries and hold the Accords together and dodge Ross’s questions to remember to sleep, most days, but _Peter’s his responsibility_. Tony should’ve been better.

No one died today, and people thanked Iron Man for it, but making sure the ferry got back to the port safely was basic physics. It was easy.

Mentoring a kid? Holding a _team_ together? Stopping putting people into danger? Tony’s never got the hang of this. Maybe he never will.

The armour bleeps a warning at him mere seconds before Tony notices a dark figure in the corner of the room he just stepped into, and he aims the repulsors at it almost before he processes the information. 

_Male, 6 feet_ , and Tony knows a lot of people who could fit that description, but only one who’d be in his living room. 

“I should have you arrested,” he says, not raising his mask. 

“Will you?” Steve asks, stepping into the pool of light falling from the window. 

He’s dressed in black tactical gear, courtesy of T’Challa no doubt, but no discernible weapons. Then again, Tony has first-handed knowledge of just how much damage Steve can do with his bare hands. 

“What are you doing here, Rogers?” Tony snaps. He’s in no mood for games, least of all with _Steve_. 

He’s in no mood for anything with Steve, really; and this might be one of the biggest lies he’s told himself to date but one he won’t stop repeating until it starts ringing true to him. 

Steve doesn’t look away, because he never does, and he doesn’t ask for Tony to open his faceplate. It occurs to Tony this might be the first occasion he didn’t do it himself, to appear non-threatening, to remind everyone he’s a human under all this armour, to show he’s _trying—_

God, he’s been such an idiot.

“Well?” Tony asks, when Steve’s silent just a tad too long.

“I’ve been worried,” Steve says, and Tony can’t hold back a disbelieving snort. 

“Worried,” he repeats. “That I’m, what, endangering the planet, or limiting superpowered humans liberty to blow shit up?”

“Tony,” Steve says, and Tony shakes his head. Steve ignores him, because when does he ever listen to Tony when it doesn’t suit himself? “I’ve been watching the news, and I saw you at that ferry today—”

“And what,” Tony cuts in, and he’s grateful for the armour not relaying how his voice is shaking, “Me fixing a boat worried you so much? Not, maybe, leaving me without power in fucking Siberia?” The words escape him before he can stop himself, and if he could rewind time, he would; he didn’t mean to say it. Didn’t mean to _show_ how much that had affected him. 

He’s got a whole new set of nightmares now, ones where he didn’t remove the arc reactor and Steve broke it anyway, but Steve doesn’t need to know about that. This particular problem is on Tony. 

“—and I couldn’t stop thinking I should’ve been there with you,” Steve finishes, but then he just stands there, gaping at Tony silently. 

Because _Captain America_ would be useful in keeping a ship afloat, Tony doesn’t say, because he’s not quite sure what to make of Steve’s confession.

It’s not Tony’s choice that led to Steve not being there, today or in the past month. 

“Tony,” Steve says again, “are you okay?”

Tony doesn’t laugh in his face, but it’s a near thing.

“Peachy,” he says. There’s a headache settling behind his eyes, heavy; clearly almost losing Peter today wasn’t enough, Steve had to show up now as well. 

“Show me your face,” Steve asks or maybe orders.

Tony listens. At the back of his mind, there’s a memory of Steve ripping the faceplate away. He’s still got make-up on from an interview earlier on, so he must look better than he feels, but by the way Steve’s eyes widen, it’s still not good. 

“Yeah, the climate here isn’t like Africa, we can’t all sport a suntan,” Tony says. 

Steve frowns, but he doesn’t try to lie about Wakanda. “You’re on news all the time,” he says instead. “Either it’s Iron Man saving the day or you reassuring everyone. I know you didn’t take a break.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Tony says. “Funny, how that goes; you’re the war criminal here.”

Steve flinches at that. “I stand by what I did,” he says. “But I never meant to hurt you.”

“So you said,” Tony says flatly. “After lying to my face for what, months?”

“I’m trying to make amends—”

“By sending a letter and breaking into my house—”

 _What are you doing_ , a part of Tony’s mind is screaming at him, the part that longs to accept Steve’s word for what it is and step into his space, the part that Tony is _not_ going to follow, because there’s making mistakes and there’s making _mistakes_ , and Iron Man or not, he wouldn’t recover from it this time.

“You’re right.” Steve sounds as strong as always, but his shoulders fall.

“I beg your pardon?” Tony asks. 

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Steve says. “It’s not fair to you. I wish you’d called me. I wish we could—I wish there was a _we_ to talk about, to start with.” He rocks on his feet and then looks Tony straight in the eyes. “Tony, I wrote that, but maybe it’s important to _say_ it, too. If you need me, I _will_ come. No matter how far away you are. No matter what’s happening, how big or how small it is. I will come. Please tell me you know this at least.”

Tony thinks of the burner phone he wanted to destroy but didn’t, thinks of what Steve’s presence here means. He thinks it might be better to lie, to sever this last tie and pretend there’s never been a Steve Rogers in his life and there never will be again. Ultimately, he can’t, and when he speaks, he’s completely honest.

“I do know.”

There’s a flash of a relieved smile on Steve’s face for less than a second, and it hurts unexpectedly to see it. “That’s all I can ask for,” Steve says.

Tony spends the night working on a new shield design for Steve again, and for the first time since Siberia, he doesn’t feel guilty about it. 


End file.
